


Baking

by thefriendlymushroom



Series: Harry Potter/Fantastic Beasts Imagines [7]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Baking, F/F, Fluff, Stress Baking, cliche endings??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 22:54:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12970197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefriendlymushroom/pseuds/thefriendlymushroom
Summary: Request: "Can I please get a fem!reader x Queenie fic? She's just so perfect and I love her. Preferably a baking fic where the reader is a muggle? Thank you!"





	Baking

**Author's Note:**

> one day I will write more than just a drabble. today is not that day.

You hurried down the streets of New York City, groceries filling your arms. It was freezing outside. It had been a terrible day today and you just wanted to get home and bake this cake for your sister— A shoulder jammed into yours, then, and your groceries went flying. You noticed the man who ran into still hurrying down the street, not even pausing to look at you. Looking back around, you wanted to cry at the sight of the cracked eggs on the concrete. You didn’t know if you had enough money for replacement groceries; your job at the factory just covered necessities for you and your sister and you sure as hell were not letting your baby sister take on a job at her age. You knelt down to collect what was salvageable of your groceries and so did a flying pink ball of energy.

“Oh, honey, here, let me help,” she said, picking up what she could. “That man had no right, runnin’ into you like that. Calls himself a gentleman…” She muttered the last part and turned her attention back to you once everything was picked up. She immediately noticed the tears in your eyes. “Oh, honey, there’s no reason to be upset! Baking a cake, huh? Here, come with me—my apartment is just around the corner. I have all the baking stuff you could ever imagine.” Before you could reply, before you could even think, she had your arm in hers and was pulling you down the street. She rambled to you the whole block; you could barely get a word in. But, to be honest, you loved listening to her speak. “My sister Tina says I talk more than what’s good for me and that it’s going to get me in trouble one day, but she doesn’t know the trouble it’s gotten me _out_ of.” The two of you arrived, finally, at your destination. Queenie—as you learned her name was—unlocked and opened the door for you, leading you inside. “Here we are!”

“It’s a swell place you got here,” you said, setting your remaining groceries on her kitchen counter.

“It’s really not much,” she replied. She stepped over to you to pull your coat off your shoulders and place it on the coat rack next to the door. “So what kind of cake were you thinking of making? Chocolate? Vanilla? Oh, pineapple upside down? I love it! And I just bought some cherries the other day!” She flurried around the kitchen, looking for the ingredients.

You took the time, then, to look around her apartment. It wasn’t exactly spacious, but nice and cozy. The roaring fire was nice compared to the roaring winds outside. Random household items were strung around the room. You swore you occasionally saw these objects move out of the corner of your eye, but you just had to be imagining things. Your attention was drawn away from the room when a loud bang came from the kitchen. You quickly darted back around the corner to see what had happened. What you were met with stunned you.

“Is that…?” you began. “You have an electric mixer?!” You ran up to the machine to admire it closer. “I’ve always wanted to use one of these!”

“Well, here it is!” Queenie gestured grandly to the machine. “So let’s get to it, yeah?”

With the aid of the mixer, you managed to prepare the cake in practically no time. With Queenie’s help, it was perfect. You couldn’t wait to bring it home to your sister—she would love it. As you set it on a rack to cool, Queenie’s sister arrived home. Tina froze, with her coat halfway pulled off, when she saw you. Her eyes darted between you and her sister.

“Queenie, can we have a word, please?” she said, finally hanging her coat on the rack. “Alone?”

Queenie sighed and looked at you before following her sister into the adjacent room. “Now there’s no need to be rude, Tina,” she said.

They then spoke in hushed voices. You could only pick up pieces of the conversation. Not that you were eavesdropping, or anything. “What are you doing bringing…you know how much…” “I was just bein’ kind, what’s wrong…” Tina caught you looking through the crack in the door and she quickly marched over to close it all the way. You blushed, embarrassed at being caught.A few minutes later, Queenie emerged from the room. Tina stayed away.

“Your sister doesn’t like me much, does she?” you joked halfheartedly.

“She’s just…wary…of other people.” Queenie seemed to search for an explanation. “We grew up together, you know? Ever since we was kids, it’s just been the two of us. Our parents died of dra—” She coughed. “Chicken pox when we were younger, so it’s just been the two of us for a long time. We don’t get much visitors, neither.” She looked at you for a moment. “So it’s not just you, sugar, not at all.”

You sat in a moment of semi-awkward silence, before you jumped up. “I should be going home,” you said, beginning to collect your things. “It’s getting late. My sister will be wondering where I am.”

“Stay a little longer?” Queenie pleaded.

“No, I really should be heading home.” You gathered up your coat and bag before grabbing the cake. “Thanks for all your help, Queenie, I really appreciate it.” And then you were out the door. As you began down the hallway, you swore you heard Queenie yell, “Why’d you have to go and run her off?” You smiled softly and began your walk home.

* * *

You returned to Queenie’s home a few days later. You had to return her cake pan (and you wanted reason to see her again). Queenie looked very surprised to see you standing on the other side of her door. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

You held up the cake pan in response. “Had to return this, didn’t I?” You stepped through the threshold and into the apartment. You noticed the kitchen was a mess. “What’s going on here?”

“Things have been…tense lately. I’ve been stress baking.”

“Tense, huh?”

“Yeah…”

She began to come up with an explanation, or maybe and excuse, but you cut her off with a fistful of flour to the face. You felt your jaw drop along with hers. _Why did I just do that? Oh my goodness_ , you thought. _Why_ — You spluttered as a handful of flour similarly flew into your face. The two of you stared at each other for a second before an all-out flour fight began. You were laughing and giggling and shrieking as you chased each other around the kitchen. The kitchen became like a war zone, with the flour dust coating every surface. Queenie tackled you in the middle of the kitchen and the two of you slid across the hardwood floor, eventually falling down. You laid on the ground, panting, but smiling, as Queenie looked down at you from above.

 _Don’t do this, don’t do this, don’t do this_ , you thought to yourself as thoughts of leaning up to kiss her entered your mind.

“Do it,” Queenie whispered.

Before you could wonder if you had said something out loud, your lips were already pressed against hers.

**Author's Note:**

> please give me kudos I researched cakes in the 1920s for this


End file.
